Aprite un po'quegli occhi
by SporkGoddess
Summary: ALW musicalbased. After witnessing Christine's betrayal and then dropping the chandelier, Erik sits in his lair and plays through an aria about how women should not be trusted. He reflects on how it relates to his own situation with Christine.


Note: This is based on the ALW musical because I'm, quite honestly, too scared to try something Leroux-based. The Erik in it, I think, resembles Susan Kay's more than anything, however. There is Raoul bashing, but only because this is from Erik's POV. The author has nothing against Raoul, and personally thinks that God kills a kitten every time people misuse the word "fop."

Also, it takes place in the musical after Erik has smashed the chandelier. He's back in his lair, playing something that he thinks fits his mood. Unlike the musical, however, this involves real opera.

**_Aprite_** **_un po'quegli occhi, uomini incauti e sciocchi_**

By the Almighty SporkGoddess

There's an aria by Mozart in his Italian opera _Le nozze di Figaro _that I've never really liked all that much. I've never blamed Mozart for that, of course—the man was, after all, a genius—because the music is wonderful: it's rather the lyrics that I disliked, and those were written by his librettist, da Ponte. But now, I finally understand it. The lyrics not only make sense, they speak the perfect truth. And so I sit here, staring at the sheet music to it.

It takes place shortly into Act IV of the opera: the final act, when all of the drama is building up to the climax. At this point, one of the characters, Figaro, is under the beilef that his young bride, Susanna, is meeting Count Almaviva—who has been lusting after her—for a tryst in the forest. He goes to "avenge all husbands" by spying on the two and planning to eventually catch them in the act, as Vulcan entrapped his fair Venus and her lover Mars in a net, hanging them up to display to all of the gods _flagrante_ _delicto._

He sings a recit, "Tutto è disposto," while he is in the forest, hidden, waiting for Susanna and later the Count to arrive. Like I was earlier, hiding, watching Christine. I watched her betray me, filled with anguish and hopeless anger. And then I smashed the chandelier. It was chaos: it still is, up there. But, down in my house by the lake, everything is quiet save for the sound of Mozart. I am calm. I feel no emotion as I sit here, playing Figaro's timeless lament over the faithlessness of women.

_Oh, Susanna!_ _Susanna!_ The part of the recit is slow, sad, full of misery for just one minute before it starts up again, all angry. I was like that on the roof. Until the rage flooded through me, I felt like my heart was literally being shattered into pieces. _Oh, Susanna_? Oh Christine! Christine! I play that part twice. Each time, I think of how she kissed him.

Now is the part of the recit in which Figaro wonders how his sweet, innocent wife could possibly do something so foul. "With your ingenuous face, with your innocent eyes…" This part I keep going back to. Her beautiful blue eyes… I couldn't see them entirely, but I can imagine the love in them as she gazed at her lover's handsome face. The love which I long to appear there when she looks at me…

_Quanta pena mi costi!_ What a great suffering you cost me!

And then he—and I—begin the actual aria: "Aprite un po'quegli occhi, uomini incauti e sciocchi"—"Open your eyes, you foolhardy and stupid men." He rants and raves like a lunatic about how it is woman's nature to be unfaithful. I am not singing, as I am a tenor and this part is for a bass/baritone, but the words fly unsung through the air as I pound on the keys. It is as though Figaro is right there, singing his advice to me: "Open your eyes, you incautious and stupid man!"

Yes, I feel a lot like Figaro tonight. We're very similar, I think. Both of us raised by gypsies, both of us forced to work hard merely to survive just because of our unfortunate birth, and both of us are in love with women who are the desired object of a far more privileged man, who hasn't had to work for a single damned thing in his comfortable, noble life.

Figaro's Susanna was chased by a Count. My Christine is chased by a Viscount. Figaro's problem was that the Count was of a higher status than he: my problem is that the Viscount is young and handsome. Rather, he doesn't look like death's head. And, like Figaro thought that Susanna was accepting and returning the Count's love, I saw my Christine do just that tonight.

_These you call goddesses with cheated senses, to which our weak reason burns incense,…_I worshipped her. I gave her the gift of my music, and she, in turn, gave me her soul, or so she said. And this is how she repays me? _Witches who enchant to cause us pain…_ _Sirens that sing to land us on the rocks_… That one fits the most… it had been her voice which had drawn me to her. Things would have been better had I tied myself to the ship like Ulysses! _Owls that allure to steal our feathers, comets which shine to take our light away…_

I am really pounding on the keys now. Christine, you thorny rose! You charming fox! You benign bear! Malignant dove! Master of intrigue, friend of worries, you act, lie… You don't feel any love! No! Not for me, anyway! You don't feel any pity! No, you showed that tonight, on the roof, when you kissed him and asked him to take you away from the ugly monster that you hate! And he, being the noble Lancelot that he is, was all too happy to consent!

No, no, no, no, no!

Figaro keeps flinging insults at Susanna and I keep flinging them at Christine. The aria keeps repeating the lines and each time I play the line I am overwhelmed by the sheer truth of all he says. It crescendos, and builds up, it increases in speed and intensity, and, then, the defeated admittance…

_Il resto no dico, già—_I don't tell all the rest,

_Ognuno_ _lo sa!—_Everyone knows it already!—The last part of the aria repeats that three times.

There are some differences in our situation, though.

Susanna is Figaro's wife, who really does love him. She isn't actually cheating on him, and he later finds that out. For me, though, it's not that easy.

_Ognuno_ _lo sa!_

I hit the chords with so much fervor that it sounds like I'm smashing down on random keys instead of actually playing something.

No, she doesn't love me. But she will!

_Ognuno_ _lo sa!_

Yes, Figaro's ending is happy. After all, it's an Italian comic opera.

But my life is not written by da Ponte. And, so I wonder, will my ending be a happy one?

_**Fin**_

Author's Note: The idea for this came about in a conversation with a friend about this particular aria—which I adore despite how it slanders my gender—when I randomly joked that Erik should sing it instead of "All I Ask of You (Reprise.)" It was then that I got the idea for this. After all, Erik loved opera, so why not use it to describe his feelings?

If you've heard this particular piece, you'll know that it grows in speed and intensity, as I said. I tried to capture the feel of the music as I wrote this. In most places the lyrics are pretty clear from my writing, but in some they're mixed together. As I tried to make clear, he is playing the accompaniment, but also reading the lyrics at the same time. At times, he gets into what he is playing because it speaks so clearly to him. His sheer rage and anguish overtake him: at others, he is calm—like Figaro. I did the English thing so you guys would know what the heck the words said—which is important, I think. I mixed several versions of the translation, using my small knowledge of Italian to know which was most accurate, and trying to use what would sound best in English.

My apologies if Erik was OOC. I think that he's probably more Kay-based than anything, seeing as how I've read Kay so often her Erik has probably been unconsciously ingrained into my head. I really feel, though, like I got at least a little bit into Erik's head. I hope so, anyway. Also note that I really don't feel Erik and Figaro are alike: he's just doing the teenage angsty emotional thing: "OMG, he's so like me! We're like kindred spirits!" Though, he is right about the gypsy thing, I suppose.

Btw, all of that stuff about _Le nozze di Figaro_ is true (it's one of my favorite operas,) and especially ironic that this is happening after "Il muto" in the musical, which is a parody of that opera. Weird.

Anyway, I hope that you all liked it. I never thought that the day would come where I would write another _Phantom of the Opera_ fanfic… go figure.

Disclaimer: "Tutto è disposto… Aprite un po'quegli occhi, uomini incauti e sciocchi" and the rest of the opera _Le nozze di Figaro _was done by Mozart and da Ponte, based on a play by Beaumarchais. The rest is property of Gaston Leroux and ALW and those guys.


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